[Envinyatar]

The gifts from Rasputina . . .

‘Do sit down with us, if you will,’ said Derufin, rising from his seat as the Elf stood at the table, gifts in hand. One of the servers brought them a small flagon of chilled Dorwinion wine at his request and a plate of mushroom tarts.

‘Oh, look at these,’ Zimzi said with delight, turning the brooches over in her hands. ‘My mother has woven us new cloaks.’ She grinned, ‘Ah, she will roast me over the coals for telling you that; it was to be a surprise.’ She held one of the tree and wave pins up near her left shoulder. ‘See how pretty that will be . . . and handsome for you, of course, my dear . . . when they are clasped on the dark blue cloaks she has made us.’

Derufin admired the brooches, they were simple, yet elegant in their artistry. But more so was he interested in the compasses she had given them. They were of a unique sort, one he’d not encountered before on his travels. ‘A wondrous gift,’ he exclaimed, trying his out. He leaned down from his seat and placed it on the ground. Thinking of Bree, he spelt it out, using the orb’s dial and watched as the compass spun a little before orienting in an eastward direction. ‘Excellent!’ he murmured, picking the orb up and placing it handily in one of his vest pockets.

Zimzi turned hers over in her hand as she wondered aloud. ‘Will the power to use it die with us,’ she asked the Elf. ‘Is there any way our children could use it after us?’ She put the ball on the table top in front of her and rolled it slowly back and forth beneath her index finger. ‘You said that the gifts were as much from your people as from you.’ She tapped the wave form on the brooch. ‘Are you and they from somewhere near the sea, then?’

Derufin poured the Elf another small glass of wine. ‘Yes, where do your people live, Rasputina? Have you traveled far?’